It's Over This forum got to me.

[Gone Coping]

it isn't the forums fault you are ugly and probably smelly

 

[_incelinside]

Mega cope. You are here for a reason. I became smarter thanks to this forum. I never had sex even before coming here.

 

[RREEEEEEEEE]

it isn't the forums fault you are ugly and probably smelly

Cucktear spotted.

 

[RREEEEEEEEE]

I know what you mean exactly. I got served at a local subway yesterday and the girl didn't even look at me. Can't really say much against her because I was the only one there so there was nothing to compare to i.e. I couldn't see how she treated other guys.

However the thing that gets me is when there ARE other guys around to compare to and you see a good looking guy getting smiles and glances at the checkout and then you get ignored or disgusted looks by a minimum wage pig. This is when the bullshit advice that people give like "Maybe they were having a bad day," "Maybe they are shy", "Maybe they knew the other guy" etc goes out the fucking window.

All you have to do is closely follow a good looking guy down the street and you will see how women react to him then when you walk past after him watch what happens.

It sucks when they don't acknowledge you. It's the least they can do. It's happened to me, this girl was being all nice to this Chad-lite, chatty and whatnot. I was right behind him. When it was my turn she let me wait a whole minute before she scanned my items as she was sorting some money without even acknowledging me. It's over.

 

[RREEEEEEEEE]

EXACTLY:heybby:

REEEEEEE

 

[RREEEEEEEEE]

How did you lose your looks?

I broke my nose twice, went from a 4.5/10 to a 2/10.

 

[WastingAway]

Thats because you are ugly to them. If you were good looking those bitches wouldnt say shit about a boyfriend.

I’ll take things I already know for $500.

 

[TheWitchKing]

i have noticed that females button up their shirts ( if they show cleavage) when i approach them

Women have done the same in my presence ever since I reached adolescence. As silly as it may be for a revolting old ghoul like myself to feel hurt by it, I've yet to acclimate to the sting of that silent rejection. It's a strange feeling, isn't it? The woman in question is healthy, attractive. She's wants nothing more than the world to notice and admire her. Yet, the moment a truly ugly man crosses the threshold into that world, it's no longer quite the beautiful place it once was. An unclean element has infiltrated and tainted it. Paradise has been lost, and our once innocent Eve suddenly feels shame and the need to cover herself. It makes sense, I suppose. The old myth was correct about the first sin being disobedience, but not in the way the story described. The very first crime was ugliness: it's very existence is an affront against a Nature that would otherwise have been perfect in its loveliness.

The sexual desire of an unattractive man is offensive in a way few things are. Not only is it a reminder of the original sin of ugliness, but it carries with it the implicit threat of its perpetuation. A woman I worked with years ago shared that she had once contemplated working as a stripper and didn't find the prospect beyond the realm of possibility. Prostitution, however, was out of the question. Not because it involved selling her body for a price, not because of the potential dangers, but simply because it may involve having sex with ugly men. Just the thought evoked a visceral sense of dread and horror in her. She was more than willing to remain with her boyfriend despite the fact she would break down into tears learning he had cheated on her yet again because, when all is said and done, he was tall and handsome. His nasty words to her may have stung, but the idea of touching a repulsive man hurt infinitely more. He may have been guilty of moral evil but, make no mistake, but the worst crime against either God or man pales in comparison to one committed against Mother Nature.

As one of those ugly men, every so often you manage to forget what you are for just a little while. You cover your mirrors like an Orthodox Jew hoping to avoid the malignant gaze of the Dead. You lock yourself away into your own little world and anesthetize yourself as you languish in your self-imposed quarantine. Sadly, every so often, you have to sneak back into the world of the living. You do your very best to slip through it unobserved but, try though you may, the inevitable happens. You cross paths with a woman and her world becomes just a little bit darker, a little bit more diseased merely because you dared inhabit it for a moment. So she buttons her shirt to conceal her cleavage, tugs it down to hide the belly she so enthusiastically displayed a second before. Even without being conscious of it, she's closed herself and the world she inhabits off from you, reminding you precisely what you are and where things like you belong. Exorcised and driven out, you clench your jaw, cast your eyes to the ground, and retreat back to the solitude you deserve: your just punishment for having rebelled against Nature by being born revolting rather than beautiful. You lock yourself back up in your tiny cell and the memory of all of those women you offended merely for existing rise up in your mind. You try to blot out their looks of hatred with either the bottle or the needle to no avail. So you close your eyes, listen to the ticking of the clock, and wait for the hangman to come and execute the death warrant Nature signed for the inexcusable crime of having drawn your very first breath.

And you take what little solace you can knowing that the moment you are dead and gone, a tiny bit of Paradise will have been regained.

 

[Americanpsycho]

Women have done the same in my presence ever since I reached adolescence. As silly as it may be for a revolting old ghoul like myself to feel hurt by it, I've yet to acclimate to the sting of that silent rejection. It's a strange feeling, isn't it? The woman in question is healthy, attractive. She's wants nothing more than the world to notice and admire her. Yet, the moment a truly ugly man crosses the threshold into that world, it's no longer quite the beautiful place it once was. An unclean element has infiltrated and tainted it. Paradise has been lost, and our once innocent Eve suddenly feels shame and the need to cover herself. It makes sense, I suppose. The old myth was correct about the first sin being disobedience, but not in the way the story described. The very first crime was ugliness: it's very existence is an affront against a Nature that would otherwise have been perfect in its loveliness.

The sexual desire of an unattractive man is offensive in a way few things are. Not only is it a reminder of the original sin of ugliness, but it carries with it the implicit threat of its perpetuation. A woman I worked with years ago shared that she had once contemplated working as a stripper and didn't find the prospect beyond the realm of possibility. Prostitution, however, was out of the question. Not because it involved selling her body for a price, not because of the potential dangers, but simply because it may involve having sex with ugly men. Just the thought evoked a visceral sense of dread and horror in her. She was more than willing to remain with her boyfriend despite the fact she would break down into tears learning he had cheated on her yet again because, when all is said and done, he was tall and handsome. His nasty words to her may have stung, but the idea of touching a repulsive man hurt infinitely more. He may have been guilty of moral evil but, make no mistake, but the worst crime against either God or man pales in comparison to one committed against Mother Nature.

As one of those ugly men, every so often you manage to forget what you are for just a little while. You cover your mirrors like an Orthodox Jew hoping to avoid the malignant gaze of the Dead. You lock yourself away into your own little world and anesthetize yourself as you languish in your self-imposed quarantine. Sadly, every so often, you have to sneak back into the world of the living. You do your very best to slip through it unobserved but, try though you may, the inevitable happens. You cross paths with a woman and her world becomes just a little bit darker, a little bit more diseased merely because you dared inhabit it for a moment. So she buttons her shirt to conceal her cleavage, tugs it down to hide the belly she so enthusiastically displayed a second before. Even without being conscious of it, she's closed herself and the world she inhabits off from you, reminding you precisely what you are and where things like you belong. Exorcised and driven out, you clench your jaw, cast your eyes to the ground, and retreat back to the solitude you deserve: your just punishment for having rebelled against Nature by being born revolting rather than beautiful. You lock yourself back up in your tiny cell and the memory of all of those women you offended merely for existing rise up in your mind. You try to blot out their looks of hatred with either the bottle or the needle to no avail. So you close your eyes, listen to the ticking of the clock, and wait for the hangman to come and execute the death warrant Nature signed for the inexcusable crime of having drawn your very first breath.

And you take what little solace you can knowing that the moment you are dead and gone, a tiny bit of Paradise will have been regained.

Start a novel. I have already started one but in my native language